A Psychopath's Conquest
by Kendradelic
Summary: Antonio, a twenty five year old who may be a little unhinged at times. He has taken a dangerous liking to Lovino Vargas, a twenty year old who has no idea what Antoino is capable of. Rated M for a reasonable reason.
1. A Fateful Meeting

_**Hello,**_

 _ **This is the first story I have ever written that I have actually liked enough to upload onto this site, so hopefully it isn't too horrible! Haha. There are a few warnings when it comes to this particular story. First of all Antonio is crazy. I enjoy writing psychopathic characters for some reason... but i digress. This story is rated M sorely for the sole purpose that Antonio is unhinged, and maybe for later chapters.**_

 _ **I would be grateful for reviews, I love constructive criticism, so don't be afraid.**_

 _ **I also don't own Hetalia, I just twist the characters around.**_

 _ **Enjoy.~**_

* * *

Emerald irises scanned the area, locking onto the slender silhouette of a man. It was about one in the morning, an eerie silence lurking in the atmosphere like a bad joke. Antonio hummed softly, clicking his tongue as his bright green eyes stay focused on the silhouette. The Spanish man was across the street from the dark figure, keeping his distance from the man, always sure to be cautious when stalking his prey.

The moon's light shone on the man's face, olive toned skin shining. He was walking hurriedly, as if he could sense somebody was following him. An anxious scowl was apparent on his pinkish lips, his dark brows furrowed in what seemed to be worry. He was moving quickly down the empty street, making a sharp turn into an abandoned alleyway, cursing to himself silently.

Intrigued, Antonio followed the man, still keeping his distance. The alleyway was pitch black, Antoino's eyes were squinted, trying to adjust to the night's darkness. He could still see the man walking briskly a few yards away from him. The corners of his lips rose as a dazzling smile appeared on his Sun kissed face, his thoughts whirling around dangerously in his head. Oh but this was so much fun to Antoino.

The crunching of gravel was the only sound to be heard as the scowling man caught sight of his apartment complex. Feeling a little bit of relief he neared the building, fumbling around in his pocket before retrieving a golden key. He huffed quietly, walking up the stairway to his door, cursing as his shaky hands betrayed him as he dropped the key onto the ground. Mumbling a string of curses, he picked up the key and successfully made it into his apartment, his heart beating rapidly against his chest.

A small smirk was still playing on Antonio's lips as he turned on his heels, walking off into the dead of the night. Crickets chirped in the darkest corners, Antonio not taking notice of them as he whistled a small melody to himself, stalking off into the night.

* * *

Antonio was twenty five, thriving in the declining economy of America. He made a decent amount of money from the café he had started five years back, he had taken notice that business was doing better the past month. He also earned a little bit of cash from paintings he sold. He loved to paint, and was very passionate about it, even having an art studio in the safety of his own home.

He was raised in a Catholic upbringing, even going as far as wearing a wooden cross necklace everyday, a momento from his mother who had passed away when he was just five years old. His father was a strict Spanish man, expecting too much from Antonio as he was growing up. But as Antonio matured he wanted more from life. He wanted adventure, he wanted something exciting to live for. Shortly after his eighteenth birthday, he was planning on moving out of Spain. He thought America had more to offer him.

However, his father wasn't too keen on the idea of his son moving out of the country. They argued about the issue constantly, Antonio becoming distressed at his father's expectations. Reluctantly Antonio stayed in Spain for a few months, seemingly surprised as his father was bedridden with an unknown ailment. He stayed by his father's side, caring for the man in his darkest moments. But to no avail. His father's health declined quickly, and before too long, he passed away, Antonio by his side like a faithful companion.

Not too long after his father's death, Antonio had moved to the states, leaving behind his cursed life in Spain. But little did he know what he was in for. You see, Antonio was not at all what he led on to be. He was a manipulative man, who showed no remorse for his malicious attentions. He didn't really care about much, but he did love the thrill of watching a person's soul leave its body.

He seemed cheerful as he made small chit chat with his customer's, but his thoughts betrayed him. He was delusional, fascinated with death and deemed it to be a beautiful work of art. He enjoyed the thought of strangulation, but he also loved to daydream about torture strategies. He had also taken a dangerous liking to an Italian he had been following recently.

Antonio first laid eyes on the man in his own café. He had come in one day with another man, who looked almost identical to him. Antonio was immediately enticed by his unique color of eyes, a hazel color shrouded in a playful honey ring. He had ordered an espresso in an accented slur, his eyes bored as he let out a small, 'tch' when Antonio tried to keep the conversation going. It was a start, Antonio wouldn't deny that.

From the small encounter, Antonio had learned quite a bit about the feisty Italian. To start with, his name was Lovino Vargas, and he didn't completely hate the coffee Antonio had brought out to him. He was a very defensive man, but he was short and slender. He had a natural blush on his tanned skin that never seemed to leave his cheeks, and his Italian accent was definitely distinctive when he decided to speak to Antonio. The Spaniard also learned that Lovino's companion was indeed his little brother, Feliciano, though Antonio really didn't care too much about him. He was solely interested in the handsome and mysterious Lovino.

Shortly after his first encounter with the Italian, Antonio had run into him again. But this time, it was Lovino's place of work, a pet shop a block away from Antonio's café. Antonio had smiled playfully, flirting with danger when Lovino's face went red with embarrassment. But getting straight to the point he had adopted two turtles from the shop, also walking away with the Italian's phone number in the front pocket of his jeans. Oh how accomplished Antonio started to feel. But he yearned for more.

Weeks went by and Antonio hadn't spoke to Lovino, except through a few text messages here and there. He may not have spoken to the Italian, but he sure as hell saw him every night. Lovino had no knowledge of Antonio's nightly hobby of following him home from work, twisted thoughts lingering dangerously in his mind. Antonio hada learned Lovino's weekly schedule quite quickly, perhaps a little too quickly for someone who wasn't very close to the Italian. But oh well. Antonio was becoming dangerously addicted to the Italian. And perhaps it was too late to stop the addiction from spiraling out of control.


	2. Painting Aids The Mentally Insane

**_I bet none of you thought you would hear from me again today, ahaha._**

 ** _Well I decided to post the second chapter of this story, so enjoy~_**

 ** _And as you're going to notice, I'm spending a lot of time focusing on Antonio. I really want to show his development, and I feel that if I pay him more attention, it'll make more sense to those reading this. And I also wanted to stress the fact that no matter how normal someone may seem on the outside, they may not be all the way there on the inside._**

 ** _Also I would like to thank The Official Canadian Teabag for your review! It means a lot to me because I love your works!_**

 ** _Sorry for babbling on, I'll leave you to it.~_**

* * *

With an unnecessary groan Antonio sat up in his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hands fell in his lap, his mouth slightly ajar as he just gawked at his television in front of him, not fully awake yet.

"Mmh..." Antonio lay back down on his mattress, shielding the unwanted rays of the sun from his eyes with a red pillow.

He stayed like this for about a half an hour. And when he felt his phone vibrate somewhere under his comforter, he searched for it blindly, his hand moving against his silky sheets in search for his cellular device. Once retrieved, Antonio removed the pillow from his eyes, squinting at the screen of his phone. His mouth was still slightly open as he read the message to himself.

"Hmm..~" The Spaniard hummed, seeming to liven up a little bit.

Stretching his legs, Antonio let out a content sigh, drawing it out as he stood from his bed. His chocolate curls were tousled about in every which way, his bright green eyes lively and intriguing. He walked through his house in but just a pair of black boxer shorts, thinking of taking his medicine for a change. He glanced at the full medicine bottle on the kitchen counter top. He waved his hand dismissively. It was just a thought. He yawned, walking towards his bathroom to take a long and steamy shower.

* * *

A little over an hour later, Antonio was out and about. It was a Sunday afternoon, which meant his café was closed for the day. The sun was shining harshly on this day, but it didn't seem to bother him much as he strolled down a busy sidewalk, a bag of expensive cat food resting against his left shoulder. He was dressed in baggy blue jeans that were a little torn and had random spots of paint along the denim, a red shirt that was slightly wrinkled, and a pair of black and red athletic sneakers that fit just right.

He was in a pretty great mood, especially when he spotted familiar hazel eyes narrowed in his general direction. A smile spread across Antonio's lips as he inched closer.

"What took you so long?! Bastard..." was the mumbled greeting Antonio received.

"I had to walk, Lovi.." The Spanish man explained lightly, placing the bag of cat food by his feet. He rubbed his aching shoulder and let out a low groan.

The Italian crossed his olive toned arms against his chest, his hazel orbs still narrowed.

"Tch. Whatever.." Lovino replied, eyeing the bag of cat food suspiciously. He crouched down, reading the list of ingredients on the back of the bag. Seemingly satisfied, he stood back up.

Before Antonio could strike up a conversation, the Italian hefted the bag of cat food in both of his arms, and carried it into the quaint pet shop. Antonio followed him, his eyes running up and down the Italian's body.

Antonio bit down on his bottom lip, his thoughts racing. It seemed as if time had stopped, the voices in his head were getting louder and more vivid. They were telling him to just give into his desires. Oh how he wished to see the Italian gasping for breath. How he yearned to see just what shade of red the Italian's blood was. Antonio was thinking crimson, and boy, he sure was curious to find out.

'Come onnnn..!' A voice whispered tauntingly.

Antonio glanced at Lovino. The Italian had his back to him, busying himself with opening the bag. He had a small silver tray out, and Antonio could hear him singing something beautifully in Italian.

"This is your chance to have him.." another voice growled, egging the Spaniard on.

Antonio shook his head, his eyes still trained on the Italian as he wet his lips. Lovino had filled the tray up to the brim, and looking satisfied, he resealed the large bag.

'I wonder, Antonio... is it crimson? ... how about scarlet, or maybe maroon? Should we find out? Or maybe-'

"What the fuck, you're drooling!" Came the Italian's voice, it was a real voice this time.

Antonio snapped back to reality, blinking a few times before he realised that Lovino was inches away from him. When did he get that close..? It was then Antonio noticed that he was the one that inched closer to the Italian.

Antonio gave an awkward chuckle and took a few steps backwards. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Lovino just kept glaring daggers at Antonio, pushing his way past said man, the tray in his right hand.

Ignoring the Spanish man, Lovino walked just outside of the shop, setting the silver tray of food next to a bowl of water. Silently, the Italian stuffed his hands into his pockets, and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Aren't all of the cats inside?" Antonio questioned, breaking the Italian's peace of mind.

"This one's different, fucker." Lovino scowled, poking Antonio's chest roughly to make his point. His cheeks were dusted with a red blush as he looked away, embarrassed.

Before Antonio could respond, something white approaching the pair aroused his interest. A fat and very fluffy cat walked up to the food tray, sniffing the small brown pellets of food before he began to nibble on a few pieces. The cat meowed in what Antonio thought was delight, because he started eating the food more quickly, and produced more noise. A small ringing echoed, produced by the medium sized bell on his red collar.

Lovino cracked a small smile, and turning to Antonio, he said, "His name's... Parmesan."

The cat's ears perked up as he heard his name.

Antonio stifled a laugh before replying. "That's so cheesy, Lovi!~"

The Italian's blush darkened, his eyes rolling sarcastically. "Like I haven't heard that before, jackass.." He muttered, kneeling down to pet the rather large, Parmesan.

The cat purred loudly, lifting his head as if to signal the Italian where he wanted to be petted. Lovino quickly caught on and scratched behind the cat's ears, the cat's purring loud enough for Antonio to hear.

* * *

After spending a whole day with Lovino Vargas, Antonio felt as if his conscious was giving up on him. He was now home, a large blank canvas sitting on an easel in front of him. And on his mind was nothing but the Italian. A sigh left him as he wet his paint brush, his other hand reaching for the paints he desired.

Antonio pursed his lips, dipping his paintbrush into a tan color that reminded him of Lovino's olive toned skin. He began with small, quick strokes of his hand, creating a body with the color. He added a darker tan into the mix, to accent the different shadows on the face and torso. To create the highlights, he used a creamy tan color.

Antonio hummed softly, as he waited for the paint to dry he began to pick out colors for the background. He liked how red complimented the color of Lovino's skin, so he decided on reds and oranges, and perhaps a splash of yellow.

Antonio's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, a small bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. Wiping it away, Antonio's hand frantically began moving. This was his life, his passion, and to top it off, his new addiction. This was his everything.

He began at the top left corner and started shading red into orange into yellow as he moved down the canvas. It took him thirty minutes to finish the background itself.

He swished his paintbrush around in the brownish water he had accidentally created. Once he deemed it clean enough, he dried the brush off gingerly with a paper towel. And thus, he began on the Italian's face.

It took Antonio two hours total to finish his painting of Lovino. He had painted the Italian sitting on a bench. His torso was bare, and he was wearing black jeans that fell just below his waist. Lovino was smiling in his painting, waving as if Antonio himself were waving back. His strange curl was twisted to make the shape of a loose heart. It goes without saying that Antonio immediately hung the painting in his bedroom.

Stretching out his arms, Antonio checked the time on his microwave. He grinned, quickly changing into dark clothing. The Spanish man started singing softly, reaching for his house key before he left his apartment to see Lovino once more that day, even if Lovino wasn't aware Antonio was there.


	3. Lo-vi-no

**Hello everyone!**

 **First I would like to thank you for your reviews! They all inspire me to write for efficiently.**

 **Secondly I have a few things to say. I don't have a set day to update every week, so I'm just going to update every time I have a chapter ready to upload. I have to write this lovely story while dealing with my work schedule, family and friends schedule, and so forth.**

 **This is unrelated to the story but I'm really excited about this. You see I love to paint. I'm very passionate about it, and I just sold a painting for a hundred dollars! It made me so happy!**

 **Ahem,anyways here is the third chapter.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"My name is Lovino. _Lo-vi-no."_ The Italian drawled out, the familiar pink dusting his cheeks.

"Aww, brighten up, Lovi! I think the nickname suits such a cutie as yourself!" Antonio chirped, throwing in a wink as if to push the Italian further.

The Italian muttered under his breath, trying to hide his blush behind a hot cup of black coffee. It didn't quite work, but Antonio didn't feel like pointing it out. He enjoyed all of Lovino's little quirks, and he was familiar with quite a few of them. Like how he would burst out into a string of curses when he was embarrassed. Or when his eyes would widen whenever Antonio acted flirty towards him. It was quite cute actually.

Taking a sip of his coffee, Lovino sat back in his chair, crossing his legs. He smacked his lips and set the cup onto the small café table.

"So," he began, glancing up at the Spanish man. "What do you do when you're not running this shitty café?" He asked, trying to advance with some small talk, much to Antonio's surprise.

Perplexed, Antonio leaned in closer to the Italian, resting his head on his hands. His emerald eyes were shining as he looked up to the Italian.

"I love to paint." He commented honestly. He gave a large grin and tilted his head, his brown curls bouncing.

At this, Lovino seemed surprised. He blinked a few times, his mouth agape at the Spaniard.

"Seriously, bastard? You paint?" He asked, leaning in a little closer. He uncrossed his legs, resting his chin in his right palm.

Antonio nodded enthusiastically, emerald locking onto hazel. "I do, yes! I have an art studio in my apartment." He confessed, intrigued at the curious and intent look Lovino was giving him. Oh what he would to do him...

"What kinds of things do you paint? Let me fucking guess..." Lovino pursed his lips in thought. "Tomatoes?" The Italian joked and let out a small snort, tapping his fingers against the tabletop's glossy surface.

"Well... sometimes." Antonio admitted. 'And sometimes, I paint you.~'

"Figures." Lovino said with a roll of his eyes, taking another gulp of the brownish liquid in his cup. "I never paint boring ass tomatoes." He added, sparking the Spaniard's attention .

"You paint too, Lovi?" Antonio perked up, sitting up in his chair. Well this was quite the news. News Antonio could use to lure the Italian in.

"Lovino." the Italian corrected snappishly. He faked a bored look and looked at a sign behind Antonio's head. "It's none of your business, but I do... occasionally." He said almost truthfully, his eyes looming over the Spanish man's facial features. He actually painted at least twice a week, but hell he wasn't going to let Antonio know that.

Antonio hummed softly, gulping down the rest of his cappuccino. He licked his lips slowly to rid the cream from them, looking at the Italian while he did it, as if teasing him. "I have enough supplies for two.. that is if you think you're better than me." Antonio remarked mockingly, smiling when he was sure he got the Italian where he wanted him.

Flustered, the Italian smacked his hand down on the table. "I know damn well I can paint better than an air headed idiot like you!" He declared, his eyes showing that he was in fact unsure of his statement. His cheeks were tinted a dark red.

"Oh? Is that so?" Antonio taunted, smiling innocently. He hummed softly. "I don't know, Lovi. I've sold quite a few of my paintings."

"So you think you're the shit, huh?" Lovino scoffed, pointing a finger accusingly. "Well," he started, narrowing his honey colored eyes. He poked Antonio's chest sharply. "I've got some news for you, bastard. You aren't shit compared to me and I'll prove it!" He declared with a huff, standing up from his chair.

His little outburst caused them a few concerned glances and whispers, but it didn't faze Antonio. His smile never faltered as the Italian challenged him. He was getting a kick out of getting a reaction like this from Lovino. What a little spitfire he was, indeed. ~

"My place, say... tomorrow evening?" Antonio proposed, slowly standing from his seat. It would be an understatement to say that Antonio was happy. He was in fact, thrilled to get a chance like this. To be alone with Lovino, just the two of them, in his own art studio. He felt a tingling run through his body as his adrenaline pumped. Oh he would have to plan for something like this!

"Fine by me." Lovino agreed, placing a single hand on his hip. He glanced at his watch and cursed silently. "Fuck. I'm going to be late to work." He said matter of factly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Need a lift?~" Antonio offered, glancing towards his many workers. "My shop is covered." He added, not wanting the Italian to feel guilty.

After an unsure glance towards Antonio, Lovino sighed softly. "Your car better not be a piece of shit." He commented, taking Antonio on his offer.

Antonio let out a low chuckle and threw a few bills on the small table. "Trust me. It's not." He sang matter of factly, reaching into his back pocket to retrieve his car keys.

* * *

When Antonio returned home that night, he had planning to do. Shuffling through his apartment, the Spanish man let out an audible sigh. He was so exhausted from his day's antics. He had a large bag of things he just bought in his left hand.

He marched down the hall to his studio, the door creaking open as he let himself through it. He had canvases ranging in size in the back left corner, and in the back right corner were hundreds of different paints, mostly acrylic. And hung along the walls of his studio were paintings he had created, strewn in a unique pattern.

All but one of his paintings were done in vibrant colors. A black and grayish painting hung in the middle of the back wall, a portrait of a man. The man looked to be Spanish, he had a very thick moustache on his upper lip. His eyes were closed, and he looked to be very sick judging by how pale Antonio painted his skin to be. The man looked as if he were dying, his eyebrows furrowed in what one could only guess was pain.

With a click of his tongue, Antonio set the bag of things in the back right corner of the room, right next to the paints. There were three easels in the room, one had an unfinished painting of Lovino resting against the wood. The other two had blank canvases, each medium sized.

Antonio whistled an enchanting melody as he removed the painting of Lovino from the easel. He stashed it behind many other unfinished paintings so the Italian wouldn't find it if he were to snoop around the room. He also removed the painted of the sick looking man, he brought it to his room.

With a blank face Antonio removed the painting of Lovino in his room, replacing it with the painting of the man. The Spaniard slid the painting of Lovino under his bed, and once satisfied he let out a content sigh. Emerald orbs glanced at the painting that now hung proudly on the wall. No emotion could be sensed in Antonio as he shrugged to himself, exiting the room.


	4. Tik Tok

**Ahaha... I'm back! ^^;**

 **I'm sorry it took me so long to update the story! I've been grounded these past three months so I have not had any access to a computer for quite a while... haha...**

 **I'm still grounded, however I have bought myself a secret kindle so that I can continue updating this story. Thank you all for your reviews and staying with the story! I take your reviews into consideration, and they help me learn how to paint a better picture for you all to read.**

 **My Apologies,**

 **-Kendradelic**

* * *

Tik... Tok... Tik... Tok... Tik...

The golden pendulum swung back and forth, mezmerizing the Spanish man in the room. Antonio's mouth was partly open, his eyes blinking ever so often as his mind wandered farther and farther away from the present moment.

Tik... Tok... Tik.. Tok... Tik... Tok...

The emerald irises follwed the golden pendulum as it swayed left and right, perfectly synchronized with its dance.

Tik... Tok... Tik... Tok... Tik...

On the opposite side of the room sat a sullen looking Italian man. His head was bowed, his eyes rested upon a pallete that he grasped in his left hand. His hazel colored eyes studied the earth toned paints that engulfed the white pallete. His pinkish lips were pursed in what seemed to be concentration, his eyebrows knitted together as he gingerly swiped a paint brush through a deep olive green paint. He lifted his head to focus on the scene he had sketched on the canvas, his right hand steadying the paint brush. Lovino started with small strokes with the paint, every now and then highlighting the olive tone with a small bit of white paint. He highlighted certain areas in which he believed light would shine upon. The corners of his lips quivered upward, a slight smile creeping onto his face as his hazel irises gleamed brightly.

Tik... Tok... Tik... Tok... Tik...

A few minutes passed without a word between the two men. The pair were both engulfed into the art they were creating. Antonio had snapped out of his strange spell, taking a liking to the crimson color that stained his paint brush. His hand danced violently as he balanced the brush between his forefinger and thumb.

Tok... Tik... Tok... Tik... Tok...

Biting down on his bottom lip, Antonio threw a shy glance towards the Italian man on the other side of the room. The Spanish man let out a terse breath, shifting on the stool beneath him. Vibrant green gems rolled down the picture he was creating on the canvas, his breathing slightly uneven. The silence was becoming too uncomfortable and uninviting to the sunkissed man. Small beads of sweat formed just above Antonio's top lip. He wiped the sweat and nerves away, clearing his throat to catch the Italian's attention.

"What are you painting, Lovi?~" the accented voice chirped brightly, breaking the silence and Lovino's concentration.

"None of your fucking buisness." The Italian man scowled, his face twisted with annoyance. Lovino crossed his legs, ignoring the puppy dog face he knew Antonio was giving him.

Antonio's pout became more prominent as he heard water swishing around quickly, mumbled curses flowing through the Italian's lips.

"Aww, C'mon, Lovi.." Antonio whined, plopping dirty paint brushes into a bucket of hot soapy water.

The Spaniard spun around on the stool, facing Lovino.

"Fuck off." Lovino replied without any emotion, his tongue peeking out from his lips as he tried to regain some sense of concentration.

Antonio's frown deepened, his shoulders slumping from the Italian's rejection. Deciding not to press on with the subject, Antonio stood up, stretching his tanned arms out above his head. "Hmm..." The Spaniard rubbed his stomach, smacking his lips.

"Hmm." Lovino mumbled back sarcastically, choosing a tan color from his pallete.

Antonio sighed in defeat, running a hand through the mop of curls he called hair. "I'll go start on dinner!" He declared to the Italian in a cheery voice, trying to lift the cloud of silence he was receiving from Lovino.

With a shrug of the Italian's shoulders, Antonio hastily left the room.

* * *

 _'You should just take him for yourself... shake him up a bit.'_

Antonio's eyes were clouded over, his eye lids lowered dangerously. He got to work on dicing a tomato to try and rid himself of the sick voices.

 _'Just imagine it,'_ the voice cooed softly. ' _those hazel eyes widened in fear, the life being torn out of that beautiful brown green...'_

Enticed, Antonio started to fall into his devilish thoughts, taking the bait. He imagined Lovino trembling over his words, backing up until he hit a wall and could no longer escape his fate. His hazel gems wide in fear of what might happen next. Antonio would proceed to wrap his strong hands around that beautiful delicate throat and-

 _'He's too precious to get rid of right away...'_ another voice chirped gently. ' _You should take your time with him.._ ~' it suggested giggling uncontrollably at its own words.

Images of Lovino begging for his life flashed through Antonio's mind like they were being placed there for him. Antonio shook his head violently, trying to rid himself of the voices.

"Stop..." the Spanish man murmured to himself weakly, his hand gripping the sharp knife he was holding. "Don't make me do this again..." he hissed, his heart beating rapidly against his chest. Why was this happening again...?

A group of voices began laughing hysterically, unable to control themselves. Antonio began to feel lightheaded, his head throbbing.

' _We're only giving you what you truly desire!~'_ a voice pointed out excitedly. ' _We're just giving you an extra little push!'_

Antonio blinked furiously, his grip loosened on the knife as it fell to to floor with a pronounced, 'Clang!'.

The voices only got louder and louder, taunting Antonio with ideas and malicious intentions. "No..." he growled, trying to fight them but to no avail. The Spanish man sank to his knees and let out a heartbreaking howl, his voice bouncing off the kitchen walls and echoing throughout the apartment.

Antonio held his knees together, shaking back and forth slowly on the kitchen floor, his conscience slowly leaving him as the voices continued to torment him with his dark mind.

* * *

Lovino had busied himself with his painting, a sadness overcoming him as he stared at the woman he had painted with a guilty heart. "I'm sorry..." he whispered gently, a hand running down an unpainted area of the canvas.

The woman was breathtakingly beautiful. She had long wavy locks of brown hair that stopped just below her bosom, a headband pulled the hair around her face back to show her beautiful light brown eyes and long black eyelashes. She looked to be about in her mid-twenties, her smile vibrant and welcoming. A deep shade of pink dusted her plump cheeks, a scarlet red painted her smiling lips. She wore a simple olive green dress that flowed just beneath her knees. The woman sat comfortably in a rocking chair, a bundle of blankets resting in her open arms. An infant's face protruded from the bundle, sleeping peacefully in its mother's embrace.

Lovino let out a small sigh, setting his dirty paint brush in his own bucket of water. As he sat there wondering what was taking Antonio so long, he heard a loud howl echoing from the kitchen.

"What the fuck?" Lovino muttered, confused.

Lovino quickly stood from the stool and took a deep reassuring breath before choosing to follow the howl.

"Antonio?" the Italian called out, his steps quickened as he walked down the dark hallway that lead to the kitchen. He turned the corner, unsure of what to expect.


	5. Fresh Lemonade

_Hey everyone!_

 _A lot of you are asking if Spain is supposed to be 2p!, but he's actually not._

 _His thoughts will grow darker as he lets his demons overcome him. Ahaha but you'll understand that a bit later._

* * *

"Lovi?" The Spanish man tilted his head to the side, turning to face Lovino.

Antonio was standing infront of the open oven, rays of heat causing the tips of his curls to friz. The Spaniard produced a gentle smile, sliding a large pan of pizza into the open oven. He wore a white apron with small spots of red sauce peppering the front of it, his eyes were an interesting shade of green that Lovino had never seen before. The Italian man was both fascinated and terrified all at once, and he couldn't pinpoint what scared him so, but yet he was frightened.

Lovino swallowed thickly, a lump appearing in his throat. He was glued to the spot he resided in, almost completely forgetting about why he was checking up on Antonio in the first place.

"..." The Spaniard took a step toward Lovino, his brow furrowed. "Lovino?" he hummed, lifting his hand to brush his hand across the Italian's cheek.

The Italian flinched almost immediately, taking a short step back to create distance between Antonio and him.

"What the fuck was that screaming?" The Italian asked, honey jewels narrowed focusing in on mystical green irises.

"Screaming?" Antonio repeated, straightening his back.

* * *

The Spanish man tapped his chin a few times, his head tilted ever so slightly.

"What are you talking about? You heard screaming..." Antonio said after a few moments, a look of feigned concern apparent on his face.

The Italian frowned deeply. Could he have possibly imagined it? Crossing his arms across his chest, Lovino nooded once.

"Yeah, it was pretty fucking loud, too." he stated matter of factly.

"Are you feeling ill?" Antonio asked. "I didn't hear a thing!" he added with a low chuckle, waving a hand dismissively.

At this Lovino was left feeling puzzled. A sigh of defeat flew through his lips and he decided that the conversation was going nowhere. A headache was on the horizon and focusing on pointless shit never made the Italian's anxiety any better than it was.

"Maybe I'm fucking mental." he muttered under his breath, brushing past the Spanish man.

"Everyone has their moments!" the Spaniard pointed out, fumbling around with the stove to set a timer for the pizza that sat comfortably in the oven.

With a roll of his eyes, Lovino rummaged around a few of the wooden pantries, in search of plates. The Italian struggled slightly in obtaining the plates, for they were on the top shelf. Shortly, Lovino produced two red plates from the pantry.

* * *

A couple of minutes passed when Lovino had succeeded with setting the dinner table. Antonio had left the apartment momentarily, going to fetch some parmesan cheese from a corner store just a couple of blocks away.

"Ughh." Lovino let out a tired groan, slumping into a dining chair. His arms spread out across the table's wooden surface, his left cheek squished against the cold wood.

"... God fuckin' dammit." He muttered against the table, the image of the woman he had painted running vividly through his mind.

Sweet laughter rang through Lovino's consciousness like a delightful bell, and he swore he could smell the aroma of juicy apples, the same scent his mother use to wear. A saddened breath caught in the Italian's throat as he choked back the tears that threatened to pour out. He clamped his eyes shut tightly to rid himself of the threatening tears, his fists clenching and relaxing themselves a few times in an effort to calm himself down. His breathing had become uneven as his thoughts haunted him. It was all his fault anyways, he had determined that a long time ago. He hated himself, that he couldn't deny after all of this time. The therapy he had endured for six months had little to no effect on Lovino, he still blamed himself for her untimely death.

'BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP...'

The sound of the timer snapped the Italian man from his thoughts, causing him to sit up abruptly, the chair he sat on let out a loud screech of pain as it made contact with tiled kitchen floor.

"Shit..!" he hissed under his breath, his heart beating uncontrollably in his chest from the spark of surprise the timer had given him.

The Italian man walked up to the oven, his eyes glancing around in search of oven mitts. When he found that there weren't any visible on any of the counters, he started to search through the drawers on the sides of the counter tops. It didn't take him long to find the tomato printed oven mitts in the second drawer to the left. His hazel jewels rolled at how gaudy and 'so like Antonio to buy something so fucking stupid like this' they were. Slipping both of the oven mitts on, the Italian proceeded to open the oven. A gust of steam seeped from the oven, causing Lovino to shield his eyes away from the oven. He waved one of his hands around to rid the oven of hot steam. Once he deemed it safe, he faced the oven once more and removed the large pizza pan from the top rack. With a small 'click' the oven was shut and Lovino set the pan of pizza down onto the stove, making sure to turn off the oven and timer in the process.

As soon as Lovino had put the oven mitts back from where he gotten them, he heard the front door creak open.

"Lovino?" Antonio called out, shutting the door behind him as he stepped into the apartment. He removed both of his shoes and the fresh aroma of mozzarella cheese mixed with marinara sauce hit his nostrils as he took a few steps towards the kitchen.

"I'm still here, bastard." Lovino called back, busying himself with cutting up the pizza into seven medium sized triangles. It was difficult to cut through the pepperoni and bell peppers, but the Italian man managed to make clean, even cuts of the pizza.

"Hey, Lovi.~" Antonio walked into the kitchen, the smile he always wore shining brightly as he held up a plastic bag from the grocery. "I got the cheese!"

Lovino let out a drawn out whistle, slapping two slices of pizza onto the plate he had set out for Antonio. "And being the blockhead that you are, you somehow managed it back here in one piece." the Italian commented with a terse snort, slapping two pieces down onto his own plate.

"Yeah, yeah." Antonio brushed off the comment, removing the cylinder of parmesan cheese from the plastic bag. He discarded the bag by throwing it behind all of the cleaning supplies that reside underneath the kitchen sink.

Lovino had grabbed the cylinder of cheese and had removed the paper wrap under the lid. He screwed the lid back onto the cylinder and opened the left side of the lid and began to lightly sprinkle the parmesan onto both slices of pizza.

"Hey, Antonio," Lovino spoke up, carrying his plate to the table. "What are we going to drink?"

Antonio blinked slowly. "Oh, yes..." he murmured, opening his refrigerator. From it, he produced an opaque cerulean container. "I just made some fresh lemonade!" He explained to the Italian, pouring two glasses full.

"It better not be the bland shit, Antonio." Lovino hummed, smacking his lips together at the thought of fresh lemonade. It sounded pretty fucking good, he wasn't going to deny that.

Antonio laughed at this, setting a glass next to the Italian's plate. "It's an old family recipe, I think you'll enjoy it.~"

Lovino took a bite of the pizza, his stomach gurgling in anticipation. "You better hope so, bastard, my opinion of you is at stake." he said after swallowing the best bite of pizza he had ever consumed.

The Spanish man sat down across from Lovino, his smile widened as he watched the Italian's reaction from his homemade meal. "I'm pretty confident.~" he said as he brought the glass of lemonade to his lips and took a small sip.

Lovino watched the Spaniard's irises dance as he himself took a swig of the light yellow liquid that slosh around in the crystalline glass. The Italian made a small noise of appreciation as he set his glass down, licking his lips he said, "It's not... terrible." though that was a huge understatement. In fact, it made Lovino a bit envious that Antonio had such great taste when it came to food and beverages.

* * *

About halfway through his second slice of pizza, Lovino and Antonio had begun talking about themselves more deeply. Lovino had learned that Antonio had lived in Spain until the death of his father. The Italian man had made note that Antonio was very vague when he spoke of Spain, or anything about himself in general.

He brushed it off and had told Antonio that he had grown up in the United States. He was born in a southern part of Italy, but after his parents had separated, his mother took Lovino and his brother to the United States to start off fresh and new.

"She was a beautiful woman." Lovino remarked, choking down the pain that so badly wanted to express itself. His hazel eyes showed a sadness Antonio had picked up on, but didn't speak of.

"A beautiful woman," Lovino repeated with a fond smile, lightly tapping his lithe fingers across the wooden table. "She had a heart made of gold. Helped anyone and everyone with anything and everything." He continued on, golden brown swimming in a familiar emerald.

"Is she the woman you're painting?" Antonio asked curiously, his index finger circling around the top of his glass.

"Yes." Lovini admitted, an embarrassed blush staining his cheeks. "You sly piece of shit, I thought I told you not to look at it until its finished!" He said snappishly.

The Spanish man threw the Italian a playful wink. "I'm not one to listen.~"

"Anyways," Lovino muttered, choosing to ignore Antonio in a pretty blunt way. "My mother raised my brother and I, she supported every dream I ever had. She was a really great mother " he paused, shifting in his seat. "My younger brother, Feliciano, has great talent when it comes to the arts. His painting skills were phenomenal and he got offered a painting job out in Italy."

"Wow, he's that good?" Antonio asked, resting his head in his hands.

Lovino gave a curt nod. He clicked his tongue once, his eyes casted down as he began twiddling his thumbs, thinking about how to advance with his story. He coughed awkwardly, the bright red cheeks puffed out just slightly. With his eyes shut tightly, Lovino drew in a deep breath.

"About a week or so after he was offered the job, our mother had passed." Lovino kept the reason quiet, guilt tearing at his broken heart.

Antonio kept to himself, intrigued that this mysterious man was telling him his life story. His emerald orbs scanned the Italians face for emotion. Sadness, Embarrassment, Love, Determination.

"After she died, Feliciano took the job in Italy, he took his beautiful girlfriend with him. We keep in touch, but its about once every few days."

"Ahh." Antonio mused, encouraging the Italian to go on.

Lovino turned a darker shade of red and was becoming flustered. "What the fuck? You expect me to do all of the talking?" He said, pointing a finger at the man sitting across from him. "I'm done talking. Its your turn, bastard." He said following a huff, relaxing in his chair. His golden eyes were narrowed as he waited for Antonio to speak.

" M-me?" Antonio asked, caught off guard. He bit his bottom lip, sitting up in his chair. "Well I guess I'll begin with my life in Spain..."

So what do you guys think happened to Lovino's mother?

I'm currently taking story requests ~


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